


The Assassin and The Templar

by aspacewriter



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Assassins, F/M, Gore, NSFW, Smut, Templar turned Assassin, Templars, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-19 04:49:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19968310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aspacewriter/pseuds/aspacewriter
Summary: You are the daughter of a Templar under the Master, Crawford Starrick. Your world is turned upside down though, when a certain Assassin comes to your house.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I’ve written a fan-fiction in years so bear with me. It may be historically incorrect, but if it is, I’ll try to correct it.

Early morning in London, one of the biggest cities in the world, and the gem of England. You get to awake and stare at this city from the window of your house every day. Surprisingly, you never get sick of it. You never have, for the twenty-one years you have been alive. This past year though has been full of anxiety and shame. Shame for your organisation, who has been losing members left and right, and losing the gem of London. First it was territory to the gangs. Now, leading Templars. Your father had convinced the messengers to not tell you, in case your health should decline. Even though you know you have a strong stomach. You do not understand why the Assassins are doing this. From what you have been told, Starrick is a good man. He cares for his Templars, and makes sure each of them is safe. That is what you have been told by your father, and the messengers who come to your door with news from the Blighters.

The territory in which your father’s house stands is still the territory of the Blighters. However, your father has hired personal guards, due to his position in London. He is one of the most influential people in the train industry. And word is that he is being targeted next. You push those thoughts from your head, as you rise from your bed to look out of one of your many windows. The maids had opened the curtains before you rose from your restless slumber. You peered down at the streets, and to the horizon, and the sunrise there. You were waking early, due to Starrick arriving to discuss business with your father. You were to greet Starrick first, as always, whilst your father had a drink of whiskey to calm your nerves. He was intimidated by Starrick. You never knew why.

As you stared from your window, a polite clearing of the throat could be heard. You turned your head to examine your personal maid. “Excuse me miss... it is time for you to dress.” You nodded softly, and walked over to the small group of women who were assembled to help you dress. They helped you from your nightdress, and into a dress of white and purple. They tightened the corset, as you adjusted to the breathless feeling that always accompanied it. Afterwards, you sat and let them tidy up your hair. They brushed your long hair, and tied it back into an intricate knot, before tying a necklace around your neck. You also slipped on a few rings, and slipped into some shoes. You examined the dress in the mirror. There was no hoop skirt, since you hated them. The dress was pretty enough without the extreme volume the skirt would add.

You took a deep breath to clear your mind and walked down the stairs of your house, into the dining area. You picked up your morning cup of tea and sipped the strong concoction. You wouldn’t eat anything, for fear of it coming up later. And eating in your corset always made you feel like you were going to burst. A sharp knock suddenly broke the peaceful sound of plates being washed, and the house staff quietly talking as they washed the dishes. You gave your half empty cup to a maid before walking to the front door. As the door was opened for you, you looked up at the man in front of you. Crawford Starrick. You felt fear when you saw him, but not like your father. You never understood his or other people’s fear towards him. You kept your back straight as you held your breath and curtsied, and bowed your head slightly. “Mr Starrick. It is nice to see you. My father is in the drawing room.” You spoke politely, and stepped to the side. As he walked into the house, you went into the small library your father had added for you. You knew they would want to be alone. So you picked up a book, sat down, and began to read.

* * *

Starrick had left with the setting sun, after having quite a bit to drink again. Your father and Starrick had much to celebrate. Starrick was to take your hand in marriage. You felt... conflicted about the idea. You knew now that you would never get to explore, and be free, and attempt to join the Blighters. You thought back to the fighting lessons they had given you, and how they would go to waste now. Your maids had helped you get changed to sleep, and you walked to your father’s study. You gently knocked on the door, and entered. “Father? May I ask something?” You spoke as you entered, and your eyes widened. There was a figure behind your father, a broad shouldered shadow. The colour drained from your skin as you opened your mouth to scream, but the scream died in your throat as you watched the mysterious male slit his throat. Blood sprayed from the cut as your father choked on his own blood, and collapsed. You could feel it on your face, in your hair, and you could see it on your nightgown. Tears leaked down your face.

In fear, you looked up at the mysterious figure and attempted to make a move to escape. But your legs had frozen beneath you. You stared at the hood, at the face half hidden underneath it, at the coy little smirk that rested on his face. Jacob Frye. You would recognise the Assassin’s symbol immediately. His finger lifted to his lips. And he shushed you gently. If you blinked you would’ve missed his next movements. He swung himself from the window, and disappeared into the night. As the phantom disappeared you collapsed to your knees and screamed.

* * *

Shit. Damn it all to hell. That girl had seen his face and had immediately realised who he was. But Jacob hadn’t had time to kill her. And... he didn’t want to. He couldn’t bear to see that face, which was full of innocence, devoid of life. He mentally cursed at himself as he landed on the train roof and swung inside. Before his sister could talk, he spoke. “There was a complication.” That made the other Frye pause what she was saying. “Excuse me? Care to elaborate, Jacob?” Evie crossed her arms as Jacob pulled his hood down, and got himself some whiskey. He sat down and rubbed his face. “I killed the target.” Evie visibly relaxed. “But his daughter walked in just before. And watched me kill him.” “Did you kill her?” She began to get slightly more annoyed now. “No. I didn’t. I couldn’t see her die. She didn’t look like a Templar. She wasn’t full of hate when she saw me. Just full of grief and concern for her father. Evie... she was innocent. And I don’t want anyone innocent dying.” Evie shook her head. “You’ve condemned her to a worse fate than death! She saw your face. That means she is the only Templar alive who has seen your face. Which means they took her to Starrick. She probably won’t say what you look like due to fear of how she would end up. Starrick will torture her Jacob.” Jacob rose to his feet at that. “And that is your responsibility.” “Evie we have to-“ “No Jacob. You have to.”

Jacob left as quickly as he had arrived.

* * *

You had been taken to Starrick’s base of operations as soon as the Blighters had arrived to clean up. You were still in your bloody nightdress, and still had blood on your face. You had become more withdrawn after seeing your father killed in front of you. You were seated on a chair in a mostly dark room, only illuminated by a few candles. “You saw his face?” Those were the first words you had spoken to you. You looked up at Starrick, and blinked your eyes. They were sore from crying. You swallowed, and cleared your throat silently. You attempted to sit up in your chair more, like you had been taught to. “Yes. I did.” “What did he look like?” “He-“ You paused, and glanced down at your hands. Starrick saw this movement and paced over, grabbing your chin tight. He forced you to look at him. “Spit it out.” He commanded. You glanced back down which caused him to tighten his grip. You stared up into his eyes, which were devoid of care. In a heartbreaking moment, you realised the man you had been handed over to, the man you had admired, did not care. And that you had been lied to. “I can’t remember his face.” You made the rash decision of not telling him. If Starrick was this bad, then the Assassins must be better. You knew that they would be. And that one day they would probably come for you. You ignored that thought and the wave of doubt that accompanied it.

Starrick must have seen the doubt on your face, for he let go of your chin, and struck you across the face. You tensed, as small tears leaked from your eyes. “Take her away. Somewhere far from here. And get that information from her. I don’t care how.” He ordered the guards at the door. You were dragged, kicking, to a carriage outside the headquarters. And knocked unconscious by an elbow to the head.

* * *

You awoke in an unfamiliar house, tied to a chair, at sunrise. You could smell the scents of a market though and began to hope. You vaguely knew where you were, and were filled with excitement once you realised how close you were to freedom. The Assassins had been liberating this area, see, and you could tell by the market that this place was a gang headquarters. The Assassins would be there soon. You hoped.

The excitement changed to dread as you turned your attention to your surroundings. You glanced up at the man in front of you, as he mercilessly slammed his fist into your stomach. You gasped for air, and coughed. He pulled your head up by your hair, and a soft whimper left you. “What does he look like?” He asked. You swallowed and spoke. “I-I don’t remem-“ You were interrupted by another punch in your stomach. A wheezed cry left you, before your head was pulled up again. “Tell me what he looks like.” He shouted at you. “I can’t remember!” You said quickly. He let go of you. You believed that he was going to let you go. But you let out a loud sob, as you saw him turn to the vast arrangement of knives and hammers laid out on a table. You whimpered.

And so the next few weeks were engulfed in pain, as you were cut again and again, and layers upon layers of skin were peeled from you. But still, you didn’t reveal his identity. But still, you hoped. Hoped that the Assassins would take over.

* * *

After two months of this torture, and vast other kinds, through the fog that had taken over your mind you heard shouts, and the ringing of a bell. Your head lifted slightly, and a weak sob left you. You couldn’t move. They had torn your nightdress from you in another form of torture that would deem you impure for the rest of your life. They had also gotten an incredibly skilled scientist to render you infertile, which would stop anyone from marrying you. They had haphazardly thrown a cloak over you before leaving to see what was happening.

You heard explosions, and cheering. And people running through the house underneath you. You swallowed, and cleared your throat. The little dregs of water you had drunk had barely kept you alive to this point, and your throat was hoarse from screaming. But you lifted your head, and let out a hoarse cry. You heard the steps go silent underneath the room you were in, and you heard someone land just outside of the door. They tried the door handle. You heard a distinct male voice, and a female, cursing and talking to each other. The male shouted at the other, and both went silent. Eventually, the distinct sounds of the lock being opened filled the room, and small tears leaked down your face. Your hands, which remained unbound, since the men liked a slight challenge, clutched onto the cloak in a way that would hide your naked, scarred and bloody body. The door was pushed open, and you recoiled away from it, your eyes shutting.

You thought your life was over in that moment. That they had come to their senses and decided to end it. You felt glad. But you heard a soft voice, and realised that it wasn’t those screaming men, who taunted and took from you day and night. It wasn’t them, or the silent women that sometimes cleared up your blood, and sometimes bandaged your wounds. You opened your eyes, and looked up at the familiar figure in front of you. The man who haunted your dreams whenever you slept briefly. The mouth that smirked that night, was moving, and the rest of his face showed concern and sadness. He reached out to pick you up and you automatically flinched away.

The female who had entered behind him cleared her throat. “Jacob. Let me get her.” She said softly. She passed by him, and he glanced at you before leaving quickly. She saw your panicked expression, and sighed softly. “We are not going to hurt you. My name is Evie Frye. That was Jacob Frye. I’m here to help you.” She walked across the room and searched through the drawers, to find a loose shirt, and some loose male pants. She wordlessly helped you into them whilst assessing your wounds. “Can you walk?” You shook your head. You felt useless. You could barely think. She slowly picked you up into her arms. Upon feeling the warmth of another person you tensed, but slowly relaxed as nothing happened. The feeling of being safe slowly made you cross into unconsciousness. For once though, you were fine with this.

_You knew they would come._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y/N recovers and begins to find out more about the strange Frye twins, Jacob has an accident, and Evie reveals a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ll be trying to upload this daily for a few days, then uploads will become weekly, before going back to daily if I have the time. I have no clue how long I’ll be writing it for though, so bare with me.   
> (Changed the spacing throughout the chapter)

After a few weeks of drifting in and out of consciousness in the care of Evie Frye, you were finally strong enough to stand, and eat on your own. As your recovery continued she trusted you to the care of a man who you had never met before. He introduced himself as Henry Green. You talked every day, and grew fond of this man. He told you about India, and the type of place it was. As you learnt about this wonderful place, you began to dream about living there. Weeks turned to months, and you were strong enough to get around. The train that you were staying on needed some cleanup, since the Frye Twins were rarely around, and you decided it was the least you could do. Whilst you were cleaning, you glanced around at the board covering the wall. It seems that they were hunting the main Templars. A pang of pain shot through your heart as you examined a photograph of your father, with a red cross over his face. You knew the Templars were bad. That they caused many problems, and that they deserved what they were getting after what you had seen of them. But your father? He was a man who loved to go on walks, who always spoke against the Blighters when he caught them doing something illegal, and who always protected the people in his borough.

One particularly stormy night, you were writing down everything Evie had asked of you. She had asked about a shroud. You had never heard of such a thing, but had written everything useful down. You heard the carriage door slam open, and you turned to greet Evie. Only it was not her. Your face paled as you saw the large, usually smirking male, whose face was twisted into an expression of pain, and was clutching at his stomach. A quick glance over him revealed multiple bloody spots on his shirt, but one that was dripping blood onto the floor. You stood and moved as quickly as your tender scars allowed, and sat him down on the bed you had recently made.

“Bandages, alcohol, and a hot knife. Where?” 

You distinctly remember saying. He swallowed and nodded his head towards a cabinet you had never opened. You didn’t ever go through their things, you thought it was disrespectful. But this time you didn’t care, as you opened the cupboard and got out a bottle of whiskey. It would have to do. You wordlessly handed the bottle to him, and watched him empty every single drop. That worried you. You grabbed another bottle, and decided against the hot knife. You could sew the wound. You sat down next to him and gently began to unfasten his weapons, his jacket, and his shirt. You tried not to focus on the eagle tattoo decorating his chest and instead examined the wound. It would definitely need stitches. 

You took his ragged shirt and examined it. It wasn’t clean enough to use. So you walked to the clothes Evie had given you, and you took out a shirt that didn’t fit you. You pulled it into a ball before pressing it against the wound. He stirred, and groaned, but otherwise remained still. His eyes fluttered open to look up at you, and he simply watched you for a moment. You realised you had the power to end the Assassin’s life. But they had saved your life. You could return the favour. You waited for the bleeding to slow slightly, and you walked over to the sewing kit that Henry had bought for you. It would have to do. On a second thought you picked up a belt and offered it to Jacob. 

“To bite down on..?” He refused, and simply gritted his teeth.

So you began to sew the wound closed. And the thunderstorm masked the sounds of pain that left Jacob Frye that night.

* * *

The next morning, you awoke with your forehead against an arm, and your hand wrapped in Jacob’s hand. You distinctly remembered through the haze of sleep that Jacob has asked you to stay, in a moment of drunken innocence. You had stayed by his side and held his hand until he fell asleep, and you drifted off too. You rubbed your eyes with one hand, and glanced around the carriage. There were signs of a disturbance. Evie must have returned and seen Jacob in your care. Once you looked around the carriage you looked towards Jacob. Your face heated up slightly. In his sleep, he looked innocent and calm. No scowl or smirk, his eyebrows showing no sign of stress. No danger. You trailed your eyes over every feature with an artist’s eye, and began to examine the rest of him. You payed particular interest to the tattoo on his chest, and blinked curiously. It must have hurt to get it done. 

“Like what you see?” 

His voice startled you from your thoughts. You blinked and your face darkened to a dark red shade, as you glanced up at his face once more. 

“I’m an artist myself, Mr Frye, so I find this art form intriguing.” You spoke quietly, so you wouldn’t break the peaceful atmosphere of the carriage. 

“An artist? You could paint me and my sister?”

“If given the correct equipment and time, yes, I could.” You smiled, and slowly let go of his hand. You stood up and smoothed out the legs of the trousers you were wearing. You were still adjusting to wearing them, but you hated wearing skirts now. It didn’t feel right.sw

Jacob moved to sit up, but groaned as you gently pushed him back down. 

“Bed rest. Lots of it. You almost died. You would have died if I was not here to save you Mr Frye.” You scolded him, and picked up his weapons from where you had dropped them the previous night. “You have to be more careful. Understand?”

You didn’t even realise how you were talking to one of the most dangerous men in the city as you put his weapons, jacket and top hat away, but you realised as you glanced at the look he was giving you. Your eyes widened slightly , but you didn’t react in any other way. 

* * *

Jacob almost laughed as he heard Y/N’s tone of voice. It was the first time anyone other than his sister had used that tone, and the first time that it was used out of sincere care. His sister cared because they were twins. But this girl had watched him kill her father. She shouldn’t care. Why did she? He didn’t know. He ignored the searing pain in his stomach as he chuckled softly, and looked up at her with his signature smirk on his face. 

“Two days of bed rest, my lady. And you do not have to call Mr. Frye. You can call me Jacob. We don’t stick to formal names around here.” He nodded slightly, as he propped himself up slightly. 

“My name is Y/N. Please call me that. The last name Wood is.. dead to me now.” Y/N spoke softly to him. 

Her voice reminded Jacob of how his father told him and Evie that his mother sounded. Soft, and peaceful, but it could be loud and harsh when the speaker wanted to be. He smiled a little bit at one of the only fond memories that he had of his father. He did miss the man. But not much.

Jacob looked up as Evie entered the train. 

“Jacob Frye, the train system has plummeted since you assassinated the leading owner of lots of the trains in the industry! You are ruining London slowly, since you do not think out your assassinations.” Evie only glanced at his wounds and didn’t say a word about it. Jacob bit back his retort, saying that there were children working on the tracks and that the trains would hit them if they so pleased. 

* * *

“Evie. Jacob did not know that he would cause the crash of the train system. Doing so led me to you, and my father taught me the names, faces and titles of every major Templar under Starrick, since I was to marry one of them.” You felt anger rising in you, but you held it back. It was difficult but you managed. “Jacob almost died last night, retrieving identification for an extremely important Templar. I checked them over, and they are not a hoax. He is a true Templar.” 

A dangerous gamble. You knew Evie could believe it or not. But she took the document from your hand, one you had hurriedly written in the night, and examined it. You had copied the handwriting of a Blighter you used to know well, and had made a broken Templar seal with the ring you had kept. She nodded as she read over it, before looking to Henry, her usual companion. 

“We found another lead for the shroud. I’ll investigate this Templar, as we continue to look for the shroud.” Evie said calmly. Her and Henry soon left. 

“Why did you lie?” Jacob said as soon as Evie was gone. His eyes were wide with curiosity. You could easily read that on his expressive face. 

You swallowed before speaking. “I don’t know why you were injured. And I knew Evie would lecture you if it was because of a fight. So the logical idea was to lie.” You quietly explained. 

“But why? Why was it logical?”

“I’m not too sure.” You said ever so softly. 

Days passed, and you and Jacob grew closer. You began to talk regularly as he was resting, and after he had rested enough to move, he began to teach you the basics of how to protect yourself. Evie and Henry were usually gone, looking for the shroud, so you and Jacob were left alone. You grew fond of the younger Frye twin. You learnt that he liked to drink cheap ale in the worst parts of London, and he loved to walk the streets at night and just watch the city. You learnt that he protected those who needed it, no matter the consequences. And he always cared about what those around him thought. But the more you learnt, the more you became curious. 

Early one morning, Jacob was teaching you how to correctly throw a knife, before Evie burst into the carriage. You were focusing on the man behind you, at his soft grip on your hand, and his other hand on your hip, guiding you into the correct stance, that you didn’t notice Evie until the door hit the wall. You turned quickly, as did Jacob. You both relaxed as you saw Evie. 

“We received news this morning that the shroud, and your target, will be at a Templar masquerade tonight.” She spoke once she caught her breath, and passed the paper to Jacob. 

“And how do we get in?” Jacob looked up at Evie, before shaking his head. “No. I won’t-“

“You have no choice in this matter. It is up to her. Y/N... we need your help. You still have the Templar insignia ring... and I retrieved your dresses from your house before they were burnt. There are a few with the Templar symbol on. We need you to get us inside. Jacob will be your date, and you will need to open a window on the second floor for me to access.” Evie laid out the plan. “It is a masquerade, so your faces will be hidden. The party is tonight. Is this okay?” She looked at you for confirmation. 

“I believe we have a masquerade to attend.” You said quietly to Jacob. 


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Jacob attend a masquerade, and discover something new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one seems to be a little shorter than the others, but I promise the next one will be longer!

The rest of a day was a blur, as you began to make adjustments to your old dress to fit you. You remembered you loved this one. Fabrics of rich silk, white and red and black, with shades of purple sewn into the bodice. The Templar symbol, created from a royal purple on the cloak that hung from your shoulders. To show the riches of the Templars. Whilst doing this, Jacob raised a problem. He did not know how to dance. You taught him the basics of the Waltz, as that was the one you were the best at. Jacob would be dancing with you after all. Otherwise you would be pointing out Templars. Especially if you saw Crawford. You felt sick as you considered this idea. Being in the same room as Crawford Starrick made your stomach crawl. 

As you were absentmindedly letting out some of the fabric to make way for the muscles that were developing from practicing with Jacob, you thought about it your father was alive. You would be preparing for the masquerade, where Starrick would publicly propose. You swallowed your anxiety and turned your attention to the box that Henry had given you. You opened it, and your breath caught in your throat. He had brought you blood red gloves, so as to hide the scars littering your arms, and to hide the callouses that had begun to form on your hands. There was a mask, shaped like an red eagle in flight, with sharp feathers made of metal. It covered your eyes, and the bridge of your nose. You would be one of the most mysterious at the masquerade. It thrilled you, to know they would not know who you were. But you knew that the mission could go wrong if you failed to remain strong. 

As an afterthought you added a hidden pocket in your dress skirt, hidden in-between the seams. You tested the strength of it. It would not be strong enough to carry a large weapon. No, a few throwing knives would have to suffice. Not for you. For Jacob, just in case.

* * *

After your careful preparations of your and Jacob’s outfits, you made sure that you knew the plan off by heart. You remembered the exact window that Evie would need opening, as did Jacob. Just in case anything happened. You knew he would be killing someone tonight. And you would have to run. A few hours before the masquerade would begin, you dressed. Evie helped with the corset ties. Other than that, you could dress yourself. You tied half your hair into a knot, and placed pins of pearls and diamonds into it. Your old pins. You donned your old rings and jewellery, including the Templar insignia. 

Once it came to seeing your reflection, you hated how you looked. Like a Templar through and through. Those people who hurt children, and women, and men, for their own personal gain. It made you sick to your stomach. You sharply pulled the gloves onto your arms, and became surprised at the thoughts rushing through your mind. You were imagining how blood would easily be hidden on them. You shook your head to clear the thoughts, and donned the back cloak. Before placing the mask on, however, Jacob Frye entered the carriage dressed in his finery. 

Jacob had removed his top-hat and combed his hair. He wore white gloves, black formal trousers, a white shirt, a black waistcoat and a blood red tailcoat with the Templar insignia on. He also wore a bow tie, per Evie’s demand. He straightened as he examined every single inch of you, and your face burned slightly. You looked over at his mask, and saw it was an exact replica of yours, except it was black. You offered him a slight smile and ignored the tight sensation in your chest. It was the corset. You blamed it on that. 

* * *

Jacob didn’t think Y/N would still be getting ready. But he entered the carriage, and looked at her. He could have sworn his heart stopped. His eyes widened, and he examined you for a few moments. Your face, your shocked expression, the dress that plunged low, lower than what was deemed acceptable in society, the corset that cinched in your waist... everything. The blood red gloves too. He found that a funny afterthought. He realised he should say something, as his signature side smirk fell onto his face. 

“You look stunning, Y/N.” He said softly to you, and bowed his head slightly. His hands tightened around the cane that he was holding, as if he could tether himself to the mock royalty he was playing. It was this once. This was the only time he would have to work with her like this. The only time. He watched your face darken to a deeper shade of red, and smiled a little. He found it amazing, how easily you could be turned red by a simple compliment. But he would never say that.

* * *

Your face darkened even more as he complimented you. You smoothed out your dress, and stood a bit straighter. You looked him in the eyes. 

“I could say the same for you.” You said softly to him. 

“Are you ready to depart?” He asked you, before he put his mask on and offered you his hand. That completely transformed his face, to something much more dark, mysterious, and dangerous. But it didn’t scare you. It thrilled you, knowing that you were /finally/ helping them. 

“Yes.” You slowly took his hand. He placed a kiss on the back of your hand, without breaking eye contact. You didn’t want this moment to end. You were holding your breath, and watching his eyes the entire time. You felt the same tight sensation again. But it felt right. He stood upright smoothly, and stepped forward to you. Your breathing started again in a sharp breath, as he placed the mask on your face gently. 

“The eagle is the symbol for us. Eagles are free. They are hunters. We are free, and we are the hunters.” Jacob said softly to you, as he looked down into your face. 

You felt a sudden urge rush through you that almost knocked you off of your feet. The urge to fling your arms around him and just dance the night away in that carriage. With nobody around. But you knew that would not be able to happen. And the moment soon came to an end, as Evie walked in. 

Jacob was quick to step away. You easily slipped your arm into his, and stood next to him. 

“We’re ready.” You managed to get out, as the anxiety of the mission ahead finally caught up with you. You felt like you couldn’t breathe. But you stayed strong. 

Evie nodded as the train pulled to a stop. “There is a carriage waiting outside. Good luck. And remember-“

“Second floor, furthest window.” Jacob rolled his eyes a bit behind the mask. You left the train, and entered the regal Templar carriage. 

* * *

You were holding onto Jacob’s arm tightly for the entire journey. Until you arrived. The carriage pulled up in front of the mansion that was being used for the gathering. You automatically recognised it. This was the house of a Templar in charge of the boats in the Thames. His name was Michael Addemire. You couldn’t believe they were going after him. He was the target? You were left shell shocked, but quickly pulled yourself from it, as you were helped from the carriage. You straightened your back and spoke to the guards at the door. You said the right phrase, they bowed their heads and opened the door before you entered. 

As soon as you entered you felt Jacob tense at your side. You squeezed his arm, and glanced up at him. You hoped he remembered that you grew up in these environments, doing these exact things. You hoped that he wouldn’t forget that you were always the one who was forced to remember the Templars. Crawford Starrick walked to you, and Jacob. He silently examined both of you. You bowed your head and curtsied, and Jacob nodded his head. 

“I am Lady Catarina, from the French Templars.” You had been practicing a heavy French accent since you had arrived on the train, just in case you needed to use it in a sticky situation. “This is... Lord Admon. My betrothed.” You knew this wasn’t in the plan. But you knew Crawford would try to get you on your own otherwise. 

“Lady Catarina, Lord Admon, it is a pleasure to meet you.” You almost cried with relief. “Please, enjoy the party.” Crawford pressed a long kiss to the back of your hand. Instead of feeling the warmth you felt when Jacob did that, your stomach crawled with disgust. You wanted to vomit. But you knew you couldn’t. 

“He suspects.” Jacob leaned down and whispered to you, in a way that would be common for lovers. 

“I know. We have to wait before we enact our plan.” You whispered back, and shut your eyes slightly. Your hand moved from his arm, to his shoulder. A casual gesture. But in the way of the upper class, it was seen as a flirtatious gesture. 

You gave your cloak to the man waiting at the door, and took hold of Jacob’s arm again. 

“Would you like to dance, my lady?” He said softly to you. The tone of voice that he used with you sent a fluttering sensation through your chest. You did not know why. You smiled slightly though, and nodded your head. 

“I would love to.” 

You followed him to the middle of the room, where the majority of people were dancing along to the gentle song the band was playing. It was the waltz, that you had practiced. You began to dance and kept your eyes mainly on Jacob’s face. When you weren’t staring up at his masked face, you were glancing at the Templars you passed, and whispering their names to him. He nodded every so often. This game of giving names unnoticed and staring at each other came to an end at the end of the song. Jacob gently took your hand and led you from the room. 

It was meant to look like lovers wanted some time to themselves. But you moved quickly up the stairs together, still hand in hand. You knew this area was restricted to you. But you knew that there shouldn’t be anyone up here. It was to your upmost surprise when a man rounded the hallway ahead of you. You were lucky he didn’t see you immediately. But Jacob was quick to act. He pulled you against his body, one arm around your waist, and the other at the back of your neck. He looked down into your eyes for a moment. 

“Forgive me, Y/N.” He whispered quietly, and pressed his lips to yours. 

Your eyes widened for a moment before you gently moved your lips with his, and shut your eyes. Your hands naturally rested on his chest, and you relaxed into his arms. 

The man cleared his throat. “Excuse me... there are a few rooms on this floor you can you use for that.”

“Oh... I apologise. We French do not mind this.” You used the fake accent again, and let your blush cover your entire face. 

He pointed out a few rooms before leaving. And you were left in Jacob’s arms, simply staring up at him. 

“I understand why you did that. If you didn’t... we would have been discovered.” You whispered softly, and swallowed. That moment was seared into your mind. “I do not need to forgive you. There is nothing to forgive.” You whispered, before slowly stepping away.

Once you had both calmed down and talked a bit, you found the right window. Jacob pried it open, and whistled ever so softly. Evie moved in through the window, and looked at both of them. At their red faces.

“Nobody suspects us. I’m going to kill my target.” Jacob moved around the corner and changed. He came out whilst pulling his top hat on. You relaxed at the familiarity of his outfit, and took off your mask.

“If you are killing your target, I will need to run at a moment’s notice. Evie, can you help me?” You said quietly. She nodded as you turned around. 

“What are you two doing?” Jacob said, before his eyes widened. He watched Evie loosen the corset drastically, and examined you as you took a deep breath. You could breathe again. You were no longer constricted. 

“Thank you Evie. Jacob, I will be by the piano. Once chaos erupts we will have to be quick.” You said quietly to him. 

A soft smile spread across his face. “Let’s go kill a Templar, Y/N.”


End file.
